‘Yeah and apparently you speak all of which makes you a loony. Schizo-rhizome syndrome, if you ask me.’

‘Who,’ sniffed the coach, asked you?’

‘Exactly my point. No one asked. Oh it’s all very well for that tweenie maid, getting her moment in the sun…’

‘As if. It is bloody cold.’

‘Yeah, sorry, bad choice of metaphor.’

‘More a figure of speech than a metaphor.’

The horse nodded. ‘You’re pretty good for a mad fat carrot.’

‘I’m a Herculaneum Pumpkin if you must know, one of the Dolomite Squashes.’

‘Oh, get you. Well I’m a working dormouse who needs his sleep but what do I get? 50,000 volts up my arse and a spell pulling Mr. Podge the Pumpkin. Fairy Godmother. More like Freaky Godfather. The woman’s a monster.’

‘Do you mean mobster?’

‘Oh very drole. Look girlie. Me and the boys will take you to that corner over there and if there’s no castle you can walk.’

‘But I can’t walk. I have glass slippers.’

The horse squeezed his eyes shut. ‘You’re wearing glass footwear? Are you mental? It’s a ball you’re going to? Not some arty-farty glazier’s convention. If you want to nab a prince, take my word and get yourself some DMs. The boys will be utterly potted and if you’re sporting glass a couple of turns on the Viennese waltz and he’ll have lacerated his instep. Did your wonderful Fairy Godbollock give you them?’

‘Yes, she said he’ll fall in love with my feet so my shoes had to be see through.’

‘Leaving aside the fact that the woman should know better than pandering to some royal fetishist’s foot fancy, why not go bare foot?’

‘Oh no, I must have heels. It’s in all the manuals on how to win a prince.’

‘Well, whatever the merits of all this crystal cobblers, I’m stopping by the next stand of trees.’

‘Oh please, I really do need to be dropped off at the front door. And you’ll need to be ready to dash away so being by the door is pretty essential.’

‘Dash away? What’s all that about? You know anything about this, coach boy?’

‘Not me. I was told to go where you pulled me.’

‘Right. Thing is, girlie…’

‘It’s Cinderella.’

‘’Right. Thing is girlie…’

‘Are you always this patronizing?’

‘Hello? I think we’ve established I never exactly chose this gig. If I have to pull this lump of pith around…’

‘Hey, stop being so Legumist.’

‘Oh do shut up. See, once I’ve dropped you, I’ve another fare over in Fairytown then there’s a quick run round the magical forest and…’

‘But Bunty said…’

‘Bunty? No, I don’t want to know.’

‘Bunty said I need to be back under the duvet with cocoa and the latest Joan Collins by midnight or we’ll all turn back.’

‘What into mice?’

‘Yep?’

‘Geez. Seriously?’

‘Fraid so. It’s in her T&Cs.’

‘No one reads T&Cs.’

‘Your bad.’

‘You think? Out you hop.’

‘Here? It’s a foot deep in snow.’

‘Look, We’re what? Four, five miles from home? If me and the boys suddenly turn back into mice, how do you rate our chances? Alright for you. All that cleaning, going up ladders, lugging coal about. Your thighs are strung like an archer’s bow. Nope, not risking it.’

‘But what do I do?’

‘You’re sixteen, right? On a night out? Do what everyone else does? Grab an Uber.’

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About TanGental

My name is Geoff Le Pard. Once I was a lawyer; now I am a writer. I've published four books - Dead Flies and Sherry Trifle, My Father and Other Liars, Salisbury Square and Buster & Moo. In addition I have published three anthologies of short stories and a memoir of my mother. More will appear soon. I will try and continue to blog regularly at geofflepard.com about whatever takes my fancy. I hope it does yours too.
These are my thoughts and no one else is to blame. If you want to nab anything I post, please acknowledge where it came from.

There was an old TV show in reruns when I was a child called Mr. Ed. Mr. Ed was a talking horse and this coach pulling horse made me think of him. Poor Cinderella. I think the fairy godmother’s magic went awry somehow. I love both the pictures, too. I do hope they didn’t get stuck there on the road.Of course, they could aways roar the pumpkin if they did.